I Die Without You
by UndergroundValentine
Summary: Sequel to Time For Miracles; Adam and Tommy have been waiting a month. In that month they've only felt remorse and heartache. A month of regret and guilt and pain, and all for one man- Drake LaBry.
1. In a Moment, You'll See My Other Side

**Chapter One: In a Moment, You'll See My Other Side  
Tommy's POV**

One month.

Generally one month did not seem like a very long time at all. In the whole grand scheme of things, a month was almost completely irrelevant or insignificant. This month was probably an extreme contradiction to what everyone thinks of when they think of one month. This month had been the longest portion of my life and I was sure Adam Lambert, my boss and my best friend, felt the exact same way.

Drake LaBry, an artist from New Orleans, had been in a comma since Christmas Day. Drake was Adam's boyfriend and had been for quite some time. They dated before Adam ever got on Idol and they'd been together ever since, mostly. There was one year where Drake stayed with me because things had gotten very bad between him and Adam. Touring messed with Adam's brain chemistry, basically and, when he got home after being away for so long, he couldn't cope with it.

He abused Drake. He hit him and he raped him even after swearing up and down that he loved Drake. I had no doubt that he did because, more times than not, he proved that he did, in fact, love Drake. Things just got too bad to deal with. Adam had actually put Drake in the hospital, but he turned out to be alright. At the time, his injuries seemed horrible but compared to now? Now he looked like death.

Adam was a mess. I was a mess. To be completely blunt about how Drake slipped into his coma, he cut himself into it. He slashed his wrists with a steak knife and he bled out all over Adam's kitchen floor. We rushed him to the ER but he had already lost so much blood by the time we found him…

Adam found him first. I had to admit that when I first got the phone call from Adam, I thought he had hurt Drake again. It wouldn't have been the first time I received a call like that, but when I found out that Drake had done this to himself, I felt my heart ice over inside of my chest.

I knew, even if I didn't want to believe it was true, that Adam and I had driven Drake to do this to himself. You see, over the year that Drake lived with me, I fell desperately in love with him. I couldn't explain it really. I never had eyes for any guy like I did for Drake. He was talented and he was beautiful… He was graceful in ways a man should never be, even in depression. I couldn't help but love him but it wasn't until he and Adam got close that I finally admitted it to myself. I constantly tried to tell myself that it wasn't true, that I just spent too much time with Drake in general, but eventually I had to face facts.

Drake regarded me as the man who saved his life. When Adam had hurt him so badly, I was the one who found him and got him to the hospital. He and I grew extremely close and feelings on both parts were hard to avoid, but his heart was still Adam's. Even after all of the horrible things Adam did to him, he was still completely and totally in love with the glam star.

But part of Drake loved me too. Part of his heart was mine.

That was our conflict. Drake loved Adam and he wanted to be with him but he also loved me. Drake and I had shared so very passionate moments in the past. They never escalated into sex because Drake would never let himself go that far, but Adam saw us on Christmas Eve. We were caught up in a… very heated kiss. Drake had given me a very heartfelt gift and we just got carried away. We were careless.

Adam ran out and Drake departed after that. Adam had told me that they fought and, instead of hurting Drake physically, they ripped each other's hearts out. He told me that he found the apartment empty except for Drake. The shower had been on. Drake didn't even care enough to turn it off. He walked to the kitchen and he…

I closed my eyes, rubbing them hard with my calloused fingers. I couldn't stand to think about seeing Drake like that. Naked and lying in a pool of his own blood… It made my stomach churn. It hurt so badly…

I visited Drake almost daily, hoping that, by some mercy of God, he would be awake. Every single time I walked into his hospital room, I was disappointed. He would always be lying in the exact same position as the day before, wires and tubes running from all sections of his body, to machines that were keeping him alive with air and liquid food. A monitor constantly beeped, measuring his heart rate. Normally I would have found this annoying, but not in Drake's case. It told me that he was still alive.

His doctor told me that it wasn't very likely that he would wake up from this coma. Even if he did, he would probably have brain damage because of how much blood he had lost that night. It was a wonder that he didn't actually die. The doctor's words cut through mine and Adam's heart like a hot knife to butter. But, despite what he had told us, we didn't give up hope. The fact that Drake was still alive gave us hope. Drake was still in there somewhere and he would wake up soon… We had to believe that.

_I had to believe that._

Adam and I had a feud because we both wanted Drake, but for now we put that aside. We were trying to be a support system for Drake and for each other despite our rivalry. This entire situation was killing us both. Not only was our battle put on hold, but everything was. Drake was the only thing that was important. Adam postponed his next CD and all plans of another tour. I firmly believed that if Drake didn't wake up, he would never continue with his musical career. Drake was the one who encouraged him to start off with Idol in the first place. Drake was his entire support system up to his fame and, without Drake, I believed his will to sing might actually die.

I had similar feelings. If Drake died, if love died, what was the point of anything?

"Hey baby…" I whispered to Drake's motionless form. As every other day, I walked over to the edge of Drake's bed and bent down, pressing my lips gently to his forehead. "Hey baby," I repeated against his cool, dried skin. Drake was too pale for a Cajun and he looked sickly but he was still beautiful. I prayed this was not a "beautiful in death" situation.

For a second, I held my breath, hoping that maybe today would be the day that he opened his eyes and gave me a weak smile. He didn't though and I felt my heart clenching a little. Every day he wasn't with me, I felt like another piece of me died. Maybe I was being overly dramatic, I don't know, but I did know that I simply couldn't accept Drake never coming back. He had to. There wasn't any other way for Adam and I to recover from this…

I pulled a chair up to his bedside and sat down. I reached over, taking his hand tightly in mine. The nurses said that sometimes coma patients could still feel and react to loving contact like holding a hand or kissing. Adam and I both tried to touch him as much as possible. We weren't allowed to hold him, which was upsetting enough but… when he didn't respond, it was like a knife through the heart.

"Drake, honey…" I whispered, looking down at his wrists, bound by cushioned cuffs. At first they were to stop the bleeding of his wrists and to keep the slashes clean but the cuts had long since heeled. The doctor said that if he were to wake up, he would need to be bound because he's a risk to himself. He's suicidal.

I didn't really want to believe that either but he did try to kill himself. The term suicidal just didn't fit Drake. He was always so happy (well, when he wasn't dealing with Adam's douche-ness) and cheery. He was the very stereotypical gay male. Thinking of him as the type of person to purposefully end his life just didn't seem right, even though that is exactly what he had done…

"Drake, please come back to us… You haven't been gone that long but it feels like an eternity and the world is so dull without you," I said. Yes, I know I was being extremely fucking cheesy, but at the moment? I didn't care. Everything I said was truth. Sometimes, when I talked long enough, I could trick myself into believing I saw Drake smile slightly or twitch a little. I knew it probably wasn't true, but it was enough to give me the little bit of hope that he was going to pull through this. He'd made it through a lot of hard things, like Adam nearly- well- killing him. He was strong even if he looked fragile and delicate… He was strong enough to pull through this. I knew he was.

Or maybe I was just desperate enough to believe he was. Maybe he really wasn't getting better…

No! I could _not_ start thinking like that. Drake was going to wake up and prove all of the doctors wrong about his health status. Drake was going to be just fine and I had to believe that.

"Please wake up…" I whimpered and it wasn't until then that I realized I was crying. It wasn't very uncommon for me to cry when I visited Drake. Adam cried even more than I did. It was just too painful to see him like this, but even more painful to not see him at all. That's why we put ourselves through the torture of seeing him.

Part of me expected Adam to demand me not to see Drake, but he didn't, thank God. I would have probably punched Adam in the fucking face if he did that to me.

"Tommy?" Speaking of the glittery devil… Adam walked into the room, a bouquet of white and red roses in a red vase. They were beautiful, just like Drake was… "Hey," he muttered awkwardly. We both visited Drake every day, usually, but we didn't actually run into each other that often. When we did, it was always a little awkward, until we both stopped and realized that we did this to the man we loved so much.

"Hey Adam," I said, quickly wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my stripped hoodie. I never dolled myself up anymore. What was the point? I didn't have anyone to impress. We weren't touring or making music and the one person I _did_ want to impress was in a fucking coma. "Where did you get the flowers? They're really pretty," I commented. It was true, they were breath taking.

Adam set the flowers down on a table next to Drake's bed. He brought fresh flowers and stuffed animals at least once every few days. I knew he was trying to be sweet but what the fuck was the point? Drake could smell them. Drake couldn't see their beauty… Maybe Adam figured that when Drake woke up, he would appreciate the gestures?

I feared that when Drake woke up, he would be hostile towards not just Adam and I, but everyone. What if he tried to kill himself again? I bit my lip hard, trying not to cry again.

"A nursery that Drake used to work at when we first started dating," Adam said, staring at the flowers for a moment before taking the old flowers from the table and tossing them in the trash. "He loved working there but it didn't pay well at all. Even less than the coffee shop, if you believe that," he added. Adam walked over to where I sat and pulled up another chair to sit next to me.

"Figures Drake would work at a Nursery. He seems like the type," I said, my eyes falling back on Drake's ever-motionless form. I frowned hard, staring at his parchment skin. He looked so sick…

Adam laughed softly but it was half assed. "He has a love for nature, I'll give him that. He'd prefer a park to a five star hotel," he said. He reached over to put his hand against Drake's thigh, gently rubbing circles into his cold skin. I mimicked the motions on his hand.

An awkward silence fell between Adam and I. I wasn't entirely sure if I liked the silence or not. Talking to Adam was kind of hard lately but not talking to him in this situation? When I heard him whimper, I knew he was crying and I bit my lip, looking over at him. "Adam? You okay?" I asked but that was a stupid, generic question. If someone was crying, of course they weren't okay, it was just something you said.

He shook his head but he didn't look at me. He just stared at Drake's face and thinning frame. "What's wrong?" I asked. Also a dumb question. What's wrong is that Drake, a twenty-seven year old boy, was lying on his death bed, possibly never to really live again. I hoped that he would wake up before his birthday… Before Adam's birthday would be fantastic.

"Do you think he'll ever wake up, Tommy?" Adam muttered miserably, wiping his tears away with the heel of his palm. I frowned slightly, looking back down at the boy. "Please tell me you haven't given up hope that he'll wake up… Everyone else has and I…" he bit his lip, a new round of sobs coming forth.

I turned to face Adam completely and put my arms awkwardly around him. "I know Drake is going to wake up. He's strong, Adam… We have to keep believe that."

"Nobody else believes it and-" I cut him off before he could even hope to finish.

"No, Adam. They're wrong. Drake is going to wake up. You can't let yourself believe anything else. You _can't_," I said sternly. "He's going to wake up," I repeated, tightening my arms around Adam to reassure him of what I was saying.

"He has to, Tommy… I don't have the will to do anything without him. And knowing that this is all because of our stupid fighting…" He bit his lip again. "I can't live like this. I can't function… I can't stand waiting day in and day out for him to wake up but what else can I fucking do?"

"I know Adam… I know…" I whispered. "I feel the same. At this point, I don't care if I never have him as my boyfriend, I just want him to wake up." Adam nodded.

"Right now, I wouldn't care if he chose to be with you…" he admitted. It sounded like it was killing him to say it. "I just want him to wake up and be here with us…." I sighed deeply, looking back at Drake while Adam's tears stained my hoodie. Tears sprung up into my eyes as well and they began dripping into Adam's inky locks.

I was sure Adam and I were a pathetic sight, but didn't we have a reason to weep like this?


	2. Who Can Say If I've Been Changed

**Chapter Two: Who Can Say If I've Been Changed For The Better?  
Adam's POV**

One month.

To the common man living in the common world, working a common job of nine to whenever he was let off for the night, a month was nothing more than a measure of time. A month was only thirty or thirty one days, each day having twenty four hours, each hour having sixty minutes, each minute having sixty seconds. Several hundred thousand moments of happiness or sadness for that common man as he lived his common life.

But for me? A month was not merely seconds put into minutes, minutes put into hours, hours into days, days into weeks. A month was eternity to me. A month was hell on Earth wrapped up in the sunshine that was Los Angeles. A month was not a measure of time, but a measure of perseverance. How long could I let this single month go on before the madness of grief consumed me as a whole?

Sometimes it was hard to believe that a month had gone by. A month since Christmas Eve. A month since I walked in on my lover and my best friend caught in a kiss that tore my heart to shreds. A month since I reached into my baby's chest and tore his heart apart like he'd torn mine before running away in grief and self-pity, cursing him for hurting me when I'd done so much worse to him. A month since he attempted to end his own life…

Sometimes it was hard to believe that _only_ a month had gone by, for it felt like each day was a long year of sadness. A year of longing and grief and guilt. Such guilt…

Drake LaBry had been my lover for several years; since before I ever even thought about going on American Idol. But we weren't just lovers, Drake and I— we were best friends. Soul mates, perhaps. Drake and I knew everything and anything about each other, and that only made us love each other more and more. I could never imagine myself with anyone other than Drake, and I knew he'd felt the same.

But when I'd gone away for my Glam Nation tour, I'd grown so used to the idea that things would always go my way, even when going back home. My pride and my ego had been shot down by rejection from my best friend, Tommy Joe Ratliff, one night after a load of drinking. I'd come home, sweeping Drake off of his feet and making such sweet love to him, I felt like I was the king of the world.

I tried acting like it, too.

I'd grown so used to being in control, having my way and having whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, I snapped when Drake told me no. I snapped and I abused him. I raped him. I screamed and yelled like a five year old until I came to my senses and then all I ever felt was extreme guilt. Sorrow for the things I'd done and knowing I could never take them back.

But Drake loved me anyway. He stayed with me. He loved me like I loved him and he stayed with me despite what I'd done to him. He stayed until I snapped again, leaving to clear my head for a while only to come back and find him trying to leave. If I'd listened, I wouldn't have hurt him. But seeing him with a packed bag.. I lost it. I hurt him again. I even sent him to the hospital because I shoved him to the ground. I made him hit his head.

I couldn't forgive myself for that.

When my court hearing came up for the abuse and rape of my boyfriend, I'd longed to go to jail. I longed to be put in a place to be punished for what I had done, but Drake.. Drake felt that was unnecessary. I could remember him begging the judge to sentence me to anything but time in prison. I'd been ruled with two years house arrest as well as a restraining order from Drake. I wasn't allowed to see him or contact him in any fashion until a future date…

I underwent therapy to get over my temperamental emotions. After a year, my therapist told the judge I'd made excellent progress, and that I was capable of handling myself in public. My house arrest had been lifted, but I was still not allowed to see Drake for at least another six months.

At first, I didn't think anything of it, really. But after the first month, I decided to venture out and buy myself groceries, on my own, for the first time in over a year. It was strange being out in public again, but I found that it wasn't really as bad as I thought it was going to be. At least, until I ran— literally— into Drake in the middle of the store.

Bumping into Drake unlocked all of the pent up emotions from my heart and I realized just how deeply I truly missed him. Seeing him, looking like time hadn't done a thing to him made my heart clench and yearn. I never thought it would've been so hard to be so close to him without actually being with him like I wanted to. As it had been, I was going against the judge's orders not to speak to Drake, but it was an accident…

Drake confessed that he missed me.. That he still loved me despite the fact that he was utterly terrified of me. As he had every right to be. I put him in the hospital. I nearly killed him because I couldn't control myself at times. But I still loved and wanted him, and he wanted me too. It, truly, was a miracle that I was able to get him back, at all, but I'd never felt more complete when I did.

For a time, everything had been so perfect. I started recording music again, Drake got a new job as an interior designer. My friendship with Tommy was better than it had been before. Everything was perfect until I snapped again.

Drake had hickeys on his neck that Tommy had left. At first, I couldn't bring myself to care. I loved Drake, and when he said he had a moment of weakness, I could only relate to it. I'd been there before. I forced myself to let the knowledge that my _straight_ best friend had marked my boyfriend slip to the back of my mind before I took Drake home, making love to him for the first time in a year and a half.

That night, though, I'd dreamt that Tommy took Drake away from me, taunting me with his eyes as he touched Drake right in front of me. I woke, half hard and more than pissed as I called Tommy, bitching him out for touching Drake. I lashed out after hanging up, grabbing Drake by the throat before punching a wall. But he didn't run like I expected him to. He leaned up and kissed me, pulling me from my anger. Pulling me from my rage…

Drake told me to go on medication, since therapy wasn't cutting it anymore for me. I knew that I was scaring him, and I really didn't mean to, but I just couldn't control it. I was fearful that Tommy was going to step in and take Drake away from me. But there was a part of me that knew that if Drake willingly left me for Tommy, I would not be able to stop him.

I wish though that I'd understood that sooner. I wish that I could've just listened to him when we left Cassidy's Christmas party. I'd caught him kissing Tommy and, so, I fled in a grief-struck rage, and he followed me, begging to understand that he loved me. But I didn't want to listen to him. I didn't want to believe him, though my heart craved for it. We broke each other's hearts…

And now he was lying in a hospital bed, one month into his coma from attempted suicide. And I'd never felt more ashamed of myself than I did now.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, clutching the vase of roses in my arms as I walked down the long, empty hallway towards Drake's room. This wasn't the first time that I'd come to visit him, no. I saw him most every day, bringing something at least once or twice a week. The doctors and nurses said that sometimes coma patients could feel or hear loved ones, and that smells or sounds would help them come back.

Tommy and I tried everything we could; singing to Drake, talking to Drake, kissing him or touching him, though we were not allowed to lay with him, ever. Tommy played his guitar on occasion, even. But nothing seemed to be working. Drake never stirred, never made a sound. He was motionless, sometimes appearing like death, and the only thing that would assure us that he was still alive was the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

Inhaling slowly, I tucked the vase against my side, reaching forward to grab the doorknob, turning it slowly. I pushed against the door, slipping in to see Tommy sitting in a chair beside Drake, clutching his hand. I felt a pang of jealousy in that Tommy was here before I was, but I couldn't let myself be angry for too long. Tommy had just as much of a right to visit Drake as I did. I couldn't get angry that he decided to see Drake.

"Tommy?" I said gently, and the blond whipped around, tears on his face and in his eyes, "Hey…" I muttered softly, taking another step into the room, letting the door swing shut quietly.

"Hey, Adam," Tommy muttered, quickly wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his black and grey striped hoodie. Neither of us really dolled up anymore. There was no one to doll up for, so what was the point? I bit down on my bottom lip as Tommy asked me where I got the flowers. I sighed softly, setting them down on a side table next to Drake's bed before explaining about the nursery he used to work at before working at the coffee shop.

I pulled up another chair, sitting beside Tommy. I reached out, resting my palm on Drake's thigh, my thumb rubbing circles into the blanket that rested over him. Tommy mimicked me, but with Drake's hand instead. I glanced at their hands for a moment before looking over at Drake. Even with the tubes running in and out of him, he was beautiful and I wanted to just cry. I whimpered softly, tears stinging at my eyes as I looked away from him, squeezing his thigh.

"Adam? Are you okay?" Tommy asked me, looking at me. I shook my head a little, staring at Drake for a moment as more tears began to well in my eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked. Tommy, what's with your stupid questions? You should know all of this by now. We only put ourselves through this torture every single fucking day…

"Do you think he'll ever wake up, Tommy?" I asked him quietly, staring hard at Drake before rubbing at my eyes, trying to push back the tears that wanted to wash down my face. "Please, tell me you haven't given up hope that he'll wake up. Everyone else has and I…" I trailed off, whimpering quietly as more tears threatened to reduce me to nothing more than sobs.

Tommy turned to face me, tears in his eyes as he wound his arms around me to comfort me, "I know Drake is going to wake up. He's strong, Adam… We have to keep believe that," he whispered soothingly to me. My body shook with a sob and I inhaled shakily. I wanted to believe it, I really did. But… I just wasn't sure, anymore.

"It's just… Nobody else believes it and—" I began, but Tommy cut me off before I even had a hope of finishing my thought.

"No, Adam. They're _wrong_… Drake is going to wake up. You can't let yourself believe anything else. You _can't_," he hissed, his voice hard and stern, clipped and sounding almost desperate, "He's going to wake up," he assured me, tightening his arms around me to emphasize his point. I sighed softly, trembling lightly.

"He has to, Tommy… I don't have the will to do anything without him. And knowing that this is all because of our stupid fighting," I bit down on my bottom lip, trailing off for a moment to compose myself enough to keep talking, "I can't live like this. I can't function… I can't stand waiting day in and day out for him to wake up, but what else can I fucking do?" I questioned, my heart clenching in my chest as I gazed at Drake. I loved him so much… I needed him to wake up to feel normal again.

I couldn't understand how people could act like this was nothing. How people could just _get over_ when someone was in a coma. How people could start to forget about the person, lying in a hospital bed as they withered away to nothing. Drake's absence from my life was like a stab wound to my heart. Each new day was a new stab, a new cut. A new twist of the blade that made me sick…

"I know Adam… I know," Tommy whispered to me, his voice so quiet I had to lean a little closer to him to hear it, "I feel the same. At this point, I don't care if I never have him as my boyfriend, I just want him to wake up," the blond admitted, and I felt my heart clench. I wanted to be touched by his words, but there was a part of me— the possessiveness I had for Drake— that wanted to tell Tommy that he shouldn't care, ever, because he would _never_ have Drake… But I kept my mouth shut, forcing back the comment.

And yet, at the same time, I couldn't agree more with his words. I loved Drake dearly, but I knew I wouldn't be able to stop him if, when he woke, he decided to go to Tommy. I knew that, if it came down to that, I would put on a smile and congratulate them both, I'd wish them happiness before turning away and going about my own business… No doubt to wallow in self-pity and grief until the day that I died…

"Right now, I wouldn't care if he chose to be with you," I told him, crying softly into his hoodie. The words shot through my heart, and fear began to boil in my stomach. What if he really did leave me? After all the pain I had put him through, I wouldn't put it past him to leave… "I just want him to wake up and be here with us," I whispered softly, burying my face into Tommy's sweater. He held tight to me, pressing his face into my hair to calm himself down.

I wasn't sure how long we cried, but when our tears were spent, we stayed put in each other's arms. While Tommy and I may not have been on the best terms, we understood that we needed each other while Drake was asleep. We were the only ones who really understood all that had happened and we were the only ones to help the other make it through.

As much as I hated it and didn't want to leave, when the nurse came in to tell us that visiting hours were over, I pulled myself from Tommy's arms, wiping away the dried tears from my face. Tommy rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, and I glanced down at the fabric, seeing a dark stain that stretched from the hem of the sleeve up at least a good six or seven inches. How hard had he been crying to soak his sleeve in his own tears?

I swallowed the lump in my throat, standing from my chair. I brushed past Tommy, reaching forward to trail my fingers against Drake's cold cheek. He didn't move. My bottom lip quivered lightly as I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips, wishing with all of my heart that they were warm when, in truth, they might as well have been carved from ice.

"Please come back, Boo, please… I need you," I whispered, kissing him again before standing tall and turning away. Tommy nodded once to me, staying at Drake's side for a moment longer, no doubt to pay his own goodbyes to my lover… My heart was gripped in an icy lock and I forced myself to leave the room as I heard Tommy whisper three soft words to Drake before, no doubt, kissing him—

"I love you,"


	3. I Thought I Could Show You the World

**Chapter Three: I Thought I Could Show You the World…  
Tommy's POV**

"Hey Tommy," Adam said over his shoulder. He was sitting next to Drake's hospital bed, his chair flush tight with the bed and one of the boy's frail and pale-colored hands in his own, larger and freckle covered ones. Adam seemed to be repeatedly mumbling something to Drake before he noticed I was here. I was sure it was some sort of plea for Drake to come back to him, to wake up and to not die. It was the same thing I muttered to Drake when I was with him.

I was starting to get to the point that I didn't care if Drake chose Adam over me. Hell, I didn't even care if Drake walked out of my life all together. All I truly wanted was for Drake to wake up, be all right and get back up on his feet. I didn't care about anything else as long as he woke up and he was okay… The doctor said that even if he did wake up, he may have limited brain function from all the blood he lost when he…

No, I couldn't even think about it. The only thing I was truly thankful for was that I wasn't the one to find Drake lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of his own blood. I mean, a lot of me wished I'd followed Drake that night. Maybe if I followed him I would have been able to stop him from doing… what he did to himself. Maybe I would have found him in enough time to stop the bleeding and get him to wake up instead of letting him bleed out on the tiled floor and fall into a coma.

"Hey, Adam… Any sort of signs today?" I asked him, slowly walking over to pull a chair up to where Adam was sitting and I sat down next to him. Maybe we were in love with the same boy and we were insanely jealous of one another, but now it just didn't really matter. While Drake was lying, almost lifeless, in a hospital bed, being fed through a tube in his arm, neither one of us could have him. Neither one of us could hold him and kiss him and make love to him, so why should we constantly be at each other's throats? All of that just didn't matter anymore and even when Drake woke up (and he would because I could not think about a world where Drake wasn't living) it wouldn't matter. Whatever Drake wanted would be what happened.

Adam and I both agreed that whatever Drake chose, we wouldn't fight it.

"Well… I don't really know. I think he smiled earlier, but I might have been imagining it. I'm really not sure if it was real or not, but I am holding onto it. It's one of the few signs I've seen and I'm not willing to believe that I made it up," he said softly and I could see the dried tear trails on his freckled cheeks. I imagined he was probably crying on and off for however long he was here. I knew that's what I always did when I was here alone and even when I wasn't alone.

Slowly I reached out and placed a gentle hand on Adam's thigh, rubbing it gently, hoping to soothe him. "Adam, Drake is going to wake up. I know it doesn't seem like anything is going to happen right now, but we just need to be patient. He's strong and he will pull through, I promise you, he will," I muttered to him, trying to soothe both Adam and myself. We were both getting discouraged in the hopes that Drake was ever going to wake up. We weren't ever going to give up on him, that much was sure, but it had been two months since that day Adam called me in tears. Month three was beginning and we were both in a state of not really knowing what we could do to keep our spirits up. People woke up after years and years of being in a coma, but Drake couldn't really be in a coma for that long. Just thinking about it was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

"I want to believe you, Tommy, but please don't promise me things that you can't really follow through on…" he pleaded desperately. "I'm not giving up hope on him, I can't do that, but I don't want to… Just keep thinking that I'm going to walk through the door and he's going to sit up, smile at me and say 'hey Adam'," he added, new tears swelling in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Adam… I'm just trying to, you know, help the both of us out. I want to keep my faith in him just as much as you do," I said quietly and he just nodded, holding tight to Drake's hand. One tear rolled down his cheek, like it was a fucking piece of art and I looked away, trying to hold my own tears back, but I couldn't. Maybe I didn't find Drake lying on the floor but when Adam told me what happened, I'd imagined it well enough. I couldn't imagine what it would have been like to actually find him, but Adam seemed so disturbed by it every day. I really couldn't blame him… I would have been a total wreck if I'd seen Drake like that too…

I supposed I was feeling just as guilty about all of this as Adam did. Adam and Drake had a huge fight before Drake slit his wrists because Adam had walked in on Drake and I kissing. If it weren't for me, none of that would have happened. They wouldn't have fought on what was supposed to be a fun and loving night. If I hadn't tried to take what wasn't mine, none of us would be in this mess… Adam and I both shared the guilt but we both held guilt one hundred percent on ourselves.

"I know… I know," Adam muttered softly. "It's just… every night I go to bed thinking of all the things I should have done differently. I think of all the horrible things I've done to him and about all the fights between him and I that could have been avoided and I think of all the wonderful times Drake and I have had together and everything I love about him…" He paused for a moment; seeming to will back the new tears that threatened to spill over the rims of his eyelids. "Then I finally fall asleep and I dream about holding him close to me, just holding him and smelling his vanilla scented hair. We kiss every once in a while, but there isn't any groping, no sex, I'm not even sure where we are, truly, it's just Drake cuddled up to my chest, smiling happily at me and my arms holding him tightly, like he's the last thing I'll ever hold onto.

"If I'm not dreaming about holding him, I'm having a nightmare of the night I walked in and found him lying on the tile of my kitchen. All I see is him and the blood around him, practically floating in a sea of black and no matter what I do, I can't reach him… And it's like that for a long time but I finally get to him and suddenly we're in a hospital and Drake's doctor is telling me that he's beyond help. That he's taking his last breaths and he'll die in a few minutes and all I can do is helplessly sit there with him, listening to his heart monitor draw out one long beeping sound to tell me that he's dead…" By the time Adam stopped talking, he was in tears again and I scooted my chair closer to his, wrapping my arms tightly around his slim and getting slimmer frame. Adam and I hadn't been eating like we should have and it was so obvious that we were both losing weight, but it was worse in Adam's case. I could actually feel his ribs…

I opened my mouth to attempt to comfort him, but there was a gentle knock from the door behind us and we both turned to see Drake's doctor standing in the doorway. I pulled away from Adam and Adam pushed the tears off of his face.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I needed to discuss something with the both of you," he said. "I figured now would be as good a time as any… Especially since the both of you are already here," he added, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. Oh no, that wasn't a good sign. I could plainly see Adam tense next to me but he nodded.

"All right?" he asked. "What's this about?" I nodded, looking towards the doctor and he sighed deeply, sitting in the last chair in the room, facing the both of this.

"I really should have talked to you both about this to begin with, but you were both so heartbroken, I couldn't bring myself to suggest it. It was very unprofessional of me and I needed to tell you soon," the man said, setting his clipboard down on his lap, fidgeting a little. "When we have a case of someone falling into a coma for more than a week, we are supposed to discuss with the patient's loved ones about the option of taking the patient off of life support."

My eyes went wide. Taking Drake off life support? No, how could he even suggest that? That would be killing Drake! Without all those tubes and gadgets, which I hated seeing him hooked up to, Drake would die in a matter of minutes. How could he even think to suggest something like that to us? Did he not see how important Drake was to be of us? How were we going to live with ourselves if we just gave up and said 'okay, pull the plug'?

Next to me, Adam looked absolutely infuriated. "Are you kidding?" he hissed. "No, we're not taking him off life support! There's no way we're going to let him die!"

The doctor looked rather frightened and he held his hands up. "No. That's not what I'm saying at all. I just need to make you aware that it is an option. To be honest, I wouldn't advise it, not yet anyway," he said to us, looking very sorry and regretful. "Usually coma patients wake up within the first week or so. If not, it is still very likely that they will return to us in the first year of their state. I needed to make you aware of the option because it is required and you, Adam, are in charge of making all of his medical decisions since he can't. If you ever choose to consider taking him off of lift support, I suggest you wait until at least a year and a half." It hurt to even think about Drake being in a coma for a year and a half. "If Drake hasn't woken up by then, then it might be a serious possibility that he won't wake up and—"

"I still wouldn't take him off life support," Adam snapped and I knew he wasn't trying to be mean, but he was hurting and he was upset and he seriously just needed Drake to be all right.

"Adam… I know you don't want to deal with losing him, I can understand that and there still is a lot of hope for him to wake up, but in the case that he doesn't come to for a long time, it might be better that you just let him go… I know it sounds awful to just 'let him die' but in the case of a coma, it's not always worth keeping him alive. He may be better off moving onto the next world," the doctor whispered, trying to sound as calm and considerate as he could.

"He'll wake up!" Adam cried, looking back down at Drake's motionless body. He actually seemed to be frowning a little and I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not, but there was definitely a frown on the pale, pink lips of the boy Adam and I were so deeply in love with. "He has to…" he whimpered, tears freely rolling down his cheeks. The idea of taking Drake off of life support hurt me too, but apparently it hit something inside Adam that just made him crack.

Drake's doctor, Charles, nodded softly, frowning at the sight of Adam looking so heartbroken. I watched Adam as long as I could bear before the sight seemed to want to break my heart. I turned my head to look back at Charles. "Is he in pain, Doctor? Can he feel anything?"

"The medication we're giving him should dull any pain he has. Other than not being able to wake up, he should be relatively comfortable. As for feeling… we can't one hundred percent know for sure? Studies show that coma patients who are touched and spoken to on a daily basis are much more likely to wake up from their comas. That would lead me to believe that yes, he can feel and potentially hear you both we you interact with him. With the attention you both give him, I believe that it isn't a very unlikely possibility that he will wake up, I just can't say how much of him will still be there… I hope he will be all right, not just for him, but for the two of you as well," he said quietly and I just nodded, looking down at the pale boy. His frown was gone and a ghost of a smile spread from his lips to mine.

"Thank you doctor, but taking Drake off life support is not anything we want to even consider right now," I told Charles and he nodded.

"I understand. I didn't think you would, but I did need to let you know," he said softly, seeming almost regretful about bringing it up. I knew Adam was not, in the slightest bit, happy to hear about that option, but I knew that Charles needed to tell us or he could get in some serious trouble with the higher ups.

"Thank you, doctor," I muttered, reaching out to put a gentle hand on Drake's thigh, rubbing his cold skin gently.

"You're welcome," he whispered and he stood up. "I'll leave you two alone," he added and soon it was just Adam, Drake and myself again.


	4. This Has Gotta Be The Good Life?

**Chapter Four: This Has Gotta Be The "Good" Life?**

**Adam's POV**

Four months, and sixteen days.

That's how long Drake had been in a coma, and there were still no signs of him coming out of it. Then again, there were no signs that he was getting worse, either. The doctors had been careful to watch his vitals in the state that he was in. They kept him comfortable, fed and warm. As doctors, it was their duty to tend to their patients with the utmost care. But I couldn't help but feel they weren't doing enough.

They often played his favorite music or movies in the background. They'd light vanilla scented candles since I'd told them that he always smelled like that, and that it was his favorite scent, other than his New Orleans styled cooking and the ocean—and, well, me, but they couldn't exactly bottle me up and spritz me about the room.

Although, that didn't keep me from thinking about the possibility and potential affect it would have, were it to work.

The doctors encourage Tommy and me both to always talk to him. To hold onto his hands and talk to him. They'd told me to sing to him, since they knew of me. They told Tommy to play his guitar. We were instructed to do anything possible that would not put him in any further harm to get a response out of him.

They'd said time and time again that there was no doubt he could hear us. That he could feel us. And while it made me feel better about the situation, knowing that Drake knew I was talking to him, singing to him, holding his hand and praying to the universe that he get better, the days were taking their toll on me. Each one seemed to be another violent yank at my heartrings; another heavy sag upon my shoulders, more tears to shed and more weight to lose from my already slimming frame.

There was no denying it; I was losing weight, and losing it fast. Most people who took notice asked me if I was on a diet regimen or if I was simply not eating enough. I told them I was fine and that I was working on it. Sometimes I said the drastic weight loss was side effects of working on the new album and everything. But every time I opened my mouth, only lies spilled forth. I told them I was dieting or stressed.

In truth, I wasn't eating at all. I couldn't. I physically could not. I'd go to my kitchen, open my refrigerator, pull out something to eat, but my mouth wouldn't open. Even if it was my favorite food, I'd put it to my lips and then set it down after a moment, uninterested in it. I never felt hungry anymore. If my stomach growled, I drank water, and that would be the end of that.

I wasn't the only one, though. Tommy, lanky already enough, was losing weight, too. Tommy's weight loss, however, was not as prominent as mine. You had to look hard to see his ribs. Mine were noticeable through any semi-tight shirt that I happened to own, and most of them hung loosely at this point now.

Sighing softly, I pushed open the door to my condo, stepping inside. Nothing had changed about it, truly. The set up was the same, the furniture was the same, the wall colors and treatments were the same. Everything was the same… except for the flooring in the kitchen. It hadn't even been a month after Drake being taken into the hospital that I got them replaced. I couldn't… I couldn't look at that linoleum anymore. Not without seeing red stained across it.

Now it was a nice, deep mahogany-looking laminate. At the time I'd felt lazy and didn't have any desire to go all out with the flooring. Instead, I went with nice and durable without being too spendy. I liked it well enough, but I never really paid much mind. I'd spent so many days and nights at the hospital, at Drake's side, that I was never home enough to enjoy it.

Today was one of the few days that I actually did come home. I needed to. I'd been with Drake and Tommy over night at the hospital for the entire week. I needed fresh clothes, a long hot shower, and a glass or two of wine. Something to help me relax into the couch in my living room. Something… anything, really, that wouldn't kill me.

And yet, there was always, it seemed, a voice whispering into my ear, expressing the buried thoughts and hidden truths. I wouldn't have minded… If Drake didn't get better, I didn't want to be around. Minded isn't the word— I would have… Gods, I would gladly…go… if Drake didn't get any better. And I was never one to think of suicide but.. why bother when your reason to live was gone?

Dropping my keys on the side table by the door, I tossed my jacket onto the back of the couch, sighing heavily as tears stung my eyes. I hated this. I hated waking up every morning and knowing he.. he wasn't gone, but he wasn't here, either. I hated waking up without him and knowing that the reason he wasn't here was because of me. I hated that it was my fault.

I hated myself.

"You're pathetic, Lambert," I hissed to myself, pushing away from the door. I sauntered into the condo, my shoes scuffing across the floors as I went.

I hadn't gotten far before my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I'd turned it on vibrate before, for the longest time, I'd had a ringtone of a song that reminded me of Drake set for whenever anyone called me. And, after Christmas Eve, I couldn't listen to it anymore. I couldn't listen to anything, really.

Fumbling into the pocket of my jeans, I fished my phone out. Tommy's name was highlighted in white letters across the top. I pressed my thumb to the screen, sliding across to unlock and answer the call. Holding it to my ear, I sighed softly and spoke, "Hey, Tommy."

"Hey, Adam… You at home?" He asked and I hummed.

"Yeah. Just got here. Why?"

"I..wanted to talk about Drake. And I figured it'd be easier if it was just the two of us in a different environment. We've both been holed up in his hospital room a lot lately and—" I sighed softly.

"Tommy, not to be rude, but what else is there to talk about with Drake? We've agreed we're not taking him off of life support. We're paying the doctors incredibly well so that he can keep Drake comfortable. We've talked about what we're going to do when he wakes up, and that we're not going to force a decision on him—about anything. We've talked about this, Tommy. What else is there?" I snapped, running my fingers through my hair. I didn't want to be upset or angry with him. On the contrary, I was quite calm. More than anything, I was tired.

"I… I'm sorry, Adam…" He said and I sighed heavily, slumping down onto the couch.

"No.. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's just… I'm at my condo and I look around and all I see are the good memories of Drake and the horrible nightmares that taint everything else. I hate it. I hate this place and I hate what I've done to him. And.. I think about him all the time and it's starting to kill me, Tommy. I can't… I can't do this. I can't do this without him.. And I feel awful because I know you care about him, and I know you love him. But.. I just don't even know anymore."

"I understand, Adam. I do, and I shouldn't have brought it up. I just… I don't know. I'm trying to figure everything out right now. And I figured you would be the only person who would understand the situation since you're a part of it," Tommy said gently from his end of the line. I rubbed my eyes gently, sighing softly again as I sank into the couch, exhausted as I kicked off my shoes.

"I know.. I do and I'm with you one hundred percent, but… I can't.. I can't talk about this right now. I can't talk..about Drake. I want to. I feel like I should, considering I did this to him—"

"_We_, Adam… _We_ did this to him…" Tommy interjected. "This whole thing wasn't your fault, Adam. I mean… I'm your friend—your best friend. And… And I was having a fling with your boyfriend behind your back. You two might have had the last fight, but I put him in the position for you two to _have_ that fight… And I'm really sorry about that."

I bit down on my bottom lip, wiping away tears from my eyes. I tried to avoid thinking about the things that Tommy and Drake had done behind my back. Initially, it would have made me angry. But, nowadays, it just made me sad. Incredibly sad. Heartbroken, truly.

"It's… unimportant at this point. I appreciate and accept the apology for it, but it's not my concern right now, as I'm sure you already know. Right now I'm worried about whether or not he'll get better."

"He will, Adam. I know he will. And I know, deep down, you believe it, too." Tommy said firmly, and tears began to roll.

"I do. With all my heart. But.. It's hard, Tommy. You get so used to having this perfect person at your side and suddenly he's not there anymore and… And I don't know what to do."

"I know, Adam. I don't know, exactly, how you're feeling because what Drake and I had was..short lived and completely wrong, but.. I do understand, to a degree. And.. and I'm here for you. You know that, right?" Despite the tears rolling down my face and the heartbreak I was suffering, I smiled. It wasn't a very large smile, or bright in any respect. But it was a smile. Something I hadn't done in a long while.

"Yeah, I know. And I'm here for you, too, Glitterbaby. I just… I want—I need him back. If he wants..if he wants you in the end, that's okay… I just need to know that I didn't..didn't kill him."

"I know, Adam. And I promise—you haven't."


End file.
